


Double Lives

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bottom!Aragorn, Cosplay, Crossdressing Kink, Dom!Ori, F/M, Fun, Gamers and Geeks in ♥, High Heels, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, PWP without Porn, Pegging, Prostitution, Smaug is a cat, Smut, Stockings, Sub!Dwalin, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, book shop, maybe? i'm not sure if it qualifies as light...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ori lives above and works at the Bag End Books bookshop/library, both owned and landlorded by respectable Mr. Bilbo Baggins.<br/>Several nights a week, Ori doubles as "Adam Brown", high-end escort, wherein he meets the most peculiar of individuals.<br/>The respectable Mr. Baggins is the most unlikely of characters; although an infamous burglar, his face is unknown, earning him the nom de plume "The Free Man", or just simply "Freeman".</p><p>1: Thorin/Adam, Thorin's first time<br/>2: Dwalin/Adam, BDSM (Poison by Alice Cooper)<br/>3: Erestor likes boys in heels<br/>4: Arwen has an anniversary gift for Aragorn<br/>5: Gimli, Legolas, Ori... gamers gone wild. -ish. wild-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Double Lives

**Author's Note:**

> archive? yes, please, if you want to. just give me a heads up, yeah? ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin was nervous; he'd never done this before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been in the making for a while. the smut scene took me a while, i kept turning red and over-heating.  
> on tumblr:  
> 

Entering the prestigious hotel, _Mr. Blue_ made for the bar and ordered his usual. Anxious, he adjusted his tie and straightened his lapels, witting straight. He nervously looked around, taking in his surroundings. Men in suits, men in expensive suits, men in classy-casual clothes, women in severe trouser suits, women in cocktail dresses, women in revealing clothes... the only thing he knew to expect from his 9pm was that he spoke Greman. Observing people with such detail was giving him a headache he wasn’t prepare to deal with, not with three units of scotch in his stomach, but he couldn’t help it. Because...

_“Gestatten?”_

_Mr. Blue_ froze as he took a sip, looked up and sees a young man, clean shaven, three piece suit, black, frameless glasses, tight tie, briefcase. Office worker? He nodded and gestured to the seat beside him, listening intently.

 _”Der Herr möchte bestellen?”_ asked the barkeeper.

_”Einen Marillenschnaps, bitte.”_

_“Sofort.”_

The woman behind the counter set out to fill the order, and the young man spoke to him.

“I take it with your stunned silence that I am not what you expected?”

He swallowed and took a good look at him, straightened his tie.

“No. Sorry, no, I didn’t know what to expect. It’s... I don’t usually...”

The younger man took his hand gently, and looked into his eyes without ill intent.

“It’s your first time with someone like me?” He looked away and took a sip out of his drink, smiling melancholically to himself. Mr. Blue was entranced, despite himself. “I suppose it must have been tasking, a man of your standing calling a man of my profession for a deed so profoundly intimate.”

Eyes crinkling at the sight of a stern man gathering his wits, the younger one finished his drink and offered his hand for a shake. The other instinctively reciprocated, and just as instinctively smiled back at the disarming man before him.

“What do you know, you can smile.”

Stunned, it took a while for Mr. Blue to realise that he left something in his hand. A key card and a note. _Mr. Brown, hourly rate as discussed previously, room 1702. I’ll be waiting for a half an hour. Should you decide to change your mind, leave this behind under your tumbler. Ms Turner will not have seen anything. Good evening._

 _Mr Blue_ didn’t hesitate to follow, leaving behind a generous tip for the young lady. he tried not to look at the people entering the elevator as he was leaving, afraid he might lose his resolve. Key card in and out, the lock turns green and opens, he slips inside the room.

Luxurious, he walks into a living room, to his left a bedroom with an en suite shower, to his right a larger bathroom, judging by the echoing rush of water and the steam coming out of the slightly open door. And he stands there. He stands and waits, listening to the sounds of movement in water, slow and careful not to spill water over the tub, listens to the splash of stubbornly escaping liquid and the rustle of thick, soft towels.

When the soft noises stop, he daren’t turn around.

“You don’t have to be _shy, Mr. Blue_. I’m quite decent.”

 _Blue_ turns around, eyes on the soft carpet at _Brown’s_ bare feet. He had sharp ankles, legs with strong calves. He followed the skin up, until the soft white robe covered his legs half-way under the knees. Up, up his eyes traveled, to the neck and collarbone, the wrists holding a towel around his neck, a strong, distinguished chin, deep eyes, coy smile.

He took off his jacket and waistcoat, folded them neatly onto the table. Loosened his tie, unshouldered his trouser-holders, unbuttoned and untucked his shirt. He then stalked towards the wide-eyed _Mr. Brown_ , backed him to the wall, trapped his body with his own, and gave him a kiss. It started with a chaste peck, and progressed to deep licks, bites, slow thrusts against the wall. _Mr. Brown_ opened his thighs and lifted them, Mr. Blue settling between them and holding the slighter man up with his own body

They separated, _Brown_ looking up to the ceiling, enjoying the kisses _Blue_ peppered on his neck.

“Not quite shy anymore, are you, _Mr. Blue_?”

 _Blue_ hummed. “It’s rather pointless, all this name-calling. You know my real name, and I was guaranteed secrecy and discretion. I think I’d like to hear you call me by my own given name.”

Hooded eyes looked into his own. A soft, long kiss to his cheek, a whisper to his ear.

“All right then, _Thorin Thrainson._ You can call me _Adam_. Adam Brown, at your service.”

“Oh, you _most certainly_ are, _Adam_.”

 _Mr Blue_ \- Thorin - hoisted the knees onto his sides and with Adam’s help divested himself of shirt, vest and trousers. He pulled apart the robe, hands feasting on smooth, soft skin, roaming on pebbled nipples and grabbing thighs; hands pulled his head away with a strong jerk from the neck he was enjoying. A shark-like grin on his face, Thorin lifted Adam over his shoulder and dropped him onto the bed in the next room.

Once there, he took full advantage of his greater height and weight to hold him down. In no time at all, he slipped on a condom and reached down to stretch him, only to find his job done. Hands grab his shoulders, and they are rolled over, positions reversed. Adam sank down onto him, giving him a cheeky smile. Gasping, Thorin grabbed his hips and thrust with abandon.

He didn’t stay on his back for long. He listened for Adam’s hitching breath, waited for the tensioned tendons in his neck, the trembling of his knees, the arch of his back before rearing up, crawling up the bed and slamming him up the headboard. Adam tilted his head back and scraped his nails across Thorin’s back, who answered by increasing pace and force behind thrusts, fucking Adam through his own climax and beyond.

They remained where they were, shaking. Adam pulsated around the softening member within him, fingers clutching at the shoulders in his hands, eyelids fluttering. Thorin inhaled the seat of his neck, dragged his hands up his sides and pinched his nipples. When his ears catch the breathy little moans he was aiming for, he turns his head and swallows the rest.

“Again.”

\-------------###-------------

Exhausted, they lay next to each other, boneless and gleaming with sweat. Thorin felt as his bedmate shifted to get up. He gathered the last of his strength, reached over and trapped him under blankets and the weight of his body.

“Stay.”

Adam waves his hand tiredly. “it’s late. That’s already thirty grand you owe me...”

Thorin held on tighter, falling asleep. “Stay. Sleep.”

“I’ll still be on the clo-”

He kissed him until they fell asleep.

\-------------###-------------

Thorin woke up the next morning, feeling exceedingly better than he had in the last few months. Still on his back, he stretched, rubbed his eyes and combed back the hair from his forehead. A familiar scent tickled his nose; there was a freshly brewed coffee cup on the bedside table. The taste was equally enchanting.

Taking a quick and thorough shower, he was perplexed to find Adam sat in the salon, a full English breakfast waiting for him and his suit, freshly dry-cleaned, hanging in the corner.

“They have an excellent and immediate dry cleaning service in this hotel. I thought you’d appreciate it.” Adam, fully dressed in his own neat suit, looked up to him from his own cuppa. “I took the liberty of removing all your valuables beforehand, they’re over there with your briefcase. Don’t worry, I didn’t peek.” He had the nerve to wink.

Nodding, Thoring took a seat opposite him, and tucked into his meal, not before setting down a blank envelope. A guilty pleasure, as far as he was concerned; it wasn’t often he could indulge in a warm cooked meal in the morning.

“This is more than my fee.” Adam raised his brows, adjusting his thin glasses.

Thorin reached out, quick as lightning, and took back the cash-filled object. Adam reached after it, to find his wrist grabbed by the other hand, and himself tugged over so he straddled his client. The older man ran his hand down his spine. “One last kiss” he requested, and Adam obliged.

He started by licking the sauce from the corner of Thorin’s lips, working his way inside slowly and thoroughly, mouthing at the lips and cheeks every now and then, holding his jaws in both his hands. The lower Thorin touched him, the more Adam lost control of the kiss; soon, he simply followed his lead and submitted to his ministrations.

All too soon, the alarm rang out 6am. Thorin finally released him, and he found the envelope tucked into the front of his trousers.

“Worth every penny.” He sucked his lips before letting his escort off his lap.

“Any time.” Adam gathered himself, envelope in his own case and coat in one hand. “The room is taken care of.” He took one last look at his client, winked saucily before closing the door.

\-------------###-------------

Thorin swiped his card at the entrance of his building. Hyper-aware of his surroundings, he noticed how some of his employees looked at him with an odd expression. He waited until he was alone in the elevator to check himself in the mirror for any telltale signs of his most recent activities, but saw none. His suit was impeccable, his hair, the files... he turned around before the ding and headed straight for his office. Nothing.

He hang his jacket, opened the curtains, worked through the files, made some calls. When the clock hit 9, Balin, his oldest friend and co-worker, punctual to the point of supernatural, fetched him for a briefing.

“You look different this morning, lad.”

Thorin patted himself down, worried.

“No, not like that. You look... more relaxed. Relieved of a burden, in a manner of speaking.” At Thorin’s inquisitive look, Balin added: “Yer smilin’ this morning. Wha’ever i’ is yer doin’, it’s werkin’.”

Thorin just gives him a wicked smirk and heads for the meeting.

“What, that’s it? Not a single clue? Don’t be keeping all the good secrets to yerself, lad, show some generosity! Thorin!”

\-------------###-------------

Back in his own flat, “Adam Brown” peels off his persona, one layer at a time.

He hung his _uniform_ in a sack in his closet, tucking away his earnings for the night. _Mr. Blue_ was quite the generous soul - the tips exceeding his fee - but a fool with an ego; like many others, he was adamant for “Adam! to use his real name. In his experience, this characteristic was to be handled with care. Looking at the collection of bills in his drawer, however, leaned in his favour.

“Adam” took a long soak, trying not to give in to the crawl of self-loathing crawling up his spine.

One by one, he peeled the layers of his persona off.

The slick hair gave way to a shaggy cut, falling around his eyes and ears and forehead. On his nose were now thick horn-rimmed glasses. He tucked himself into his comfortable and favoured soft knits. He was making hot chocolate at the stove when there was a knock on his door.

Unlocking it, he saw It was his landlord and employer.

“Ori! You’re up early, I wanted to drop by and give you these scones. I made too many this morning.”

“Thank you, Master Baggins. I do love your scones.”

“Bilbo, please. After all we’ve been through, the years we’ve been acquainted, I believe us familiar enough to be on a first-name basis.”

Perhaps he ought to elaborate; he rented a fully-equipped room with en-suite kitchen and washroom above his full-time workplace, bag End Books library-cum-bookshop. His employer was owner of the entire building, the kind and respectable Mr. Bilbo Baggins.

Ori set the table for two, a pot of tea for Mr. Baggins and a pot of coco for himself, and they shared a peaceful breakfast before their day would begin.

\-------------###-------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tadaaaaaaa  
> looks like it's gonna be multi-chaptered. let's hope this doesn't die half-way through writing the next chapter...  
> but to not lose focus: Adam is popular. Ori and Adam are the same person, but because they act so differently, dress so differently, present themselves so differently, you can't see it.  
> Bilbo is infamous burglar Freeman. i don't yet know what he takes, but it's going to be awesome. or mundane.  
> these two have a history. no, bilbo is not a pimp.


	2. My Pain, Your Thrill (BDSM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin is wound up, Ori has his work cut out for him, and it's ALL NORI'S FAULT DAMMIT!  
> just to spite all the tropes out there; why is it always dwalin who doles out rough treatment and in control? why is it always ori who gives in? momman gun' git herself some dom!ori and sub!dwalin.  
> on tumblr:  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING!  
> go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qq4j1LtCdww  
> and/or (if you have on mp3 or something) listen to alice cooper's Poison on repeat. you want to read this? then in the same conditions that i wrote it! suck it up bitches!  
> if there are any bdsm afficionados out there that wish to give me tips, i'm all ears.  
> EDIT: there was some confusion with who dwalin was thinking about n the meeting. i added a little something.

\-------------###-------------

The view from this floor was incredible. It wasn’t the first time he was looking at it, but it still took his breath away.

From the outside, the building was hideous. Whoever thought to equip the first five floors of this 130 story high skyscraper with one-way mirrors instead of proper walls and windows was possibly completely hollow in the head, and he himself must be too, because he just kept coming back. To this view over all of London, standing naked, looking down at anyone and everyone, all those people far too small to see from up here, going on about their evening with their own lives.

The lights were off, only candles on the table illuminating weakly, weak enough to see his way around the place, dim enough so that there was little and blurry reflection against the night sky beyond the window.

These were the rules: no looking. No moving, no talking unless told otherwise. Sometimes, Dwalin would be standing like this, in front of his wall-mirror, mirror-wall looking at the outside world for hours, before _he_ would deign to touch him.

Hands wandered on his back, over his shoulders, up his neck, down his spine, between his cheeks. They ran up and down, slowly, leisurely, progressively deeper and rougher but still in the same painstakingly slow pace. A kiss between his shoulder blades, a smack on his bottom, Dwalin breathed deep to keep calm and kept his eyes front and centre.

“Legs apart, hands behind your head. Fingers linked. Don’t move.”

Dwalin obeyed, the hands moved to his front from behind. His eyes looked down on their own. He saw his weak reflection on the window, in the dark night sky, watched how he was fondled and bared to the world. Watched how gloved hands appropriate themselves his body, his neck, shoulders, pectorals, nipples, dragging down to his abdomen, his pubis, his thighs, the friction of black silk on sweat nearly unbearable. And didn’t move.

“These are the rules”. The body behind him leaned up, pressing against his back - and his head filled with _nice feelings_ at the tingling of his skin - lips on his ear. “No sound. No movement. You keep your eyes off my face. The only thing I want to hear is breathing. You only move when and how I tell you to move. Your eyes stay off my face, or closed. Break one rule, I leave. No more contact. No more visits. Our acquaintance ends permanently.”

The spot between his shoulder blades is licked and kissed affectionately. One hand threads through his pubic hair and grasps his cock, the other disappears behind and settles between his legs.

“Since you’re not talking, let’s make this easy. If you need a break, you say ‘stop’. If you want to cease entirely, you say ‘no’. I don’t jest with these games. Understood?”

Two fingers slid into his hole, loose from earlier in the day.

“One squeeze for no, two for yes.”

One. Two.

“Excellent.” He was rewarded with several thrusts inside, nailing his prostate almost every time, and the hand on his penis caressed him tenderly.

Adam wiped his hands on Dwalin’s back, and returned with a cold flog, ran the tip on his spine and under his balls. He stepped into the taller man’s field of vision, forcing him to look up and away. He circled him, again and again, and one more time, dragging the flog on his skin, everywhere he could reach, sometimes kindly, sometimes dug into his skin.

Without warning, he reached back and landed one firm hit on Dwalin’s side, who remained still, despite the surprise. Adam ran his hand on the burning skin, digging in his nails.

“That’s your only warning,”

Pain struck Dwalin on his back thigh, sudden and blooming, spreading downwards. Another one on his shoulder blade, overlapping with one on his buttock. Heat spread, with each and every attack on his back and thighs and butt, Every crack! resonated in his ears, every lash searing his mark into his skin, every unuttered moan tensing his biceps and the fingers locked around his head. One harsh hit at the base of his spine melted pain and pleasure into one mind-numbing feeling and -

“Stop! Stopstopstoppleasestop-”

Hands and whip gone, Dwalin thrust uselessly into the air and dropped to his knees, skin shaking without his control. He felt other knees touching his ow and a glass of lukewarm water pressed to his lips. He drank, slowly, panted heavily when finished. Kept his eyes screwed shut. Adam gave him a tender kiss on his temple.

“Good boy.”

Dwalin soaked in the praise, the caresses over his cheeks. At the questioning peck on his lips, he nodded. Adam then stood up, and backhanded him so that his head snapped the other way. And again. And the other side. He moved behind the kneeling man, pressing the flog against his neck like a garrott.

The fingers on his head were pressed against a taut stomach. All he had to do was reach out... _unlock his fingers, reach back and he could grab him, grab his back, grab his arse, squeeze the cheeks and part them -_

Arms pulled the leather around his neck further back, cutting back his oxygen intake.

“What do you want now, hm? Do you want to grab me? _Do you want to **taste me**?_ ”

Eyse closed, he could _hear_ Adam snarling. He snarled back, wanting to say yes, _needing_ to say _yes_ -

Lightning fast, Adam stepped back and struck him across his back, hard.

“Sit on the chair. Arms on the rests.”

Boy was he glad he invested in a nice Eames lounge chair. He made himself comfortable, chewing on the sweet Adam kissed into his mouth. He startled when the man on his lap tied a cloth around his eyes, now open. He couldn’t see anything above the top of his nose. he opened his mouth to protest - silenced by another backhand.

“I already warned you.” Adam squeezed a hand around his neck. Dwalin gripped the armrests.

“I gave you a blindfold to cut you some slack. Are you so without self-control? Do you _want_ me to get out and leave you to your own devices?”

The fingers around his neck tried to tighten; they were strong, but not long enough to circle his neck entirely. _He took advantage of that and lunged forward, where the sound came from, and bit into those lips, those soft and juicy lips, devouring and eating and **consuming** , he was giving in, he was **taking everything** he was - _ pulled back into reality when music blared out of the speakers and one nipple tugged harshly.

“Sweet little man, so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the clamps and chains around his nipples.” A soft, teasing laugh, so contradictory to the throbbing pain on his back. “Is he distracted? Is he _bored?_ ” Tutting. “Let’s rectify that shall we?”

Hands in black lace fingerless gloves, clawed, dragged from his neck to his shoulders, down his tense and bulging arms, holding his wrists and squeezing them, causing his fists to tighten, segwaying to his stomach and running up his torso, the patchy cloth chafing their way on his sweaty skin, scratching his trapped nipples. From under the cloth on his eyes, Dwalin spied the slowly swiveling hips, the hard cock, the thighs gleaming in the candlelight, shaking in time with the base -

\- he jerked his head back, eyeballs rolling into his skull at the stabbing cold sensation of ice cubes poured down his front. Hand unclenched, instead digging nails into the soft and giving leather of his chair, damn near tearing through it. The chains attached to his nipples were yanked back with the same force that whipped his back. His erection only hardened and pulsated with the beat of the song blaring out his stereo system.

_You’re poison, poison running through veins,  
You’re poison, I don’t wanna break these chains_

Dwalin shook violently against his chair, neck tendons tight and frightening, snarled and screamed. The swaying figure leaned over him, giving him a long, leisurely lick on his neck, and straddled him, giving him quite a good view of his body nipples-down from under his blindfold.

_I hear you calling and it's needles and pins  
I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name_

“Addendum to rule #1” The tease spoke in his ear, his gentle voice surprisingly loud over the floor-shaking noise. “The only sound I want to hear from your mouth is _my name._ ”

_don't wanna touch you but you're under my skin  
I wanna kiss you but your lips are venomous poison_

Finally, _finally_ Dwalin got his kiss, and was messy, and biting with ice, and searing with heat, _and he wasn’t letting go if it killed him_ , but he did, he had to, when -

 _One look could kill_ _My pain, your thrill_

_”Fuck me.”_

Dwalin launched out of his seat, blindfold in place, onto the thickly carpeted floor. Adam arched his back, caved in, arched back up and caved back in, undulating like a wild beast running for its life, and Dwalin grabbed onto everything, every inch of willing and giving flesh. Adam whined ever so often, shaking in time with the vibrating floor. Dwalin reached up for his hands, forehead in his shoulder, blindfold almost completely off his face by now, to where Adam held the remote to the vibrating dildo up his arse. He increased his pace, and increased the pulse.

They fucked. They rutted until the song ended. They gave into their heat when it repeated, again and again, and then one more time for good luck.

\-------------###-------------

Dwalin sat at the meeting without paying much attention. This had nothing to with his work - he worked security, not IT - but he was chief of security, so really. Tough.

Balin's been quite adamant that Thorin reveal his "secret to rejuvination" for a week now. 

Dwalin scoffed; if it was anything like his own little treat this early morning - he adjusted himself in his seat to feel the burn on his back and arse - Thorin was one lucky man.

\-------------###-------------

Ori hummed quietly as he closed shop. Today was a quiet day; not because it was empty, but because the customers knew how to behave in a library, which was often the case when Mr Baggins was present. Not that it was rare, but Bilbo said that an old friend was visiting, so today was a special day.

Ori went to the kitchens, squealed with pleasure when he saw who precisely the guest was.

“Nori!”

“Haha! Come here!”

They hugged fiercely, laughing.

“I didn’t know you were back! When did you come back? does Dori know?”

“My flight landed two days ago. I wanted to ring you, but then, it wouldn’t be much of a birthday surprise if I did, would it?”

They sat side by side, one of Nori’s arms around his little brother.

“So, where are you planning your next heist?”

“Ori, it’s not like that.”

“Oh tosh. I don’t mind, I’m not _Dori_.”

Nori smiled. Mr Bilbo appeared from behind the refrigerator door with an enormous spongecake, laughing.

“We’re going to Belarus. There are some fellows over there selling _La Joconda_. The _real one_ We’re being paid to get her back.” Bilbo elaborated, and left the kitchen, mumbling something about his cat wrecking his cravat drawer.

“Get her back... and take the money?”

“It’s not like the buyers planned on _keeping_ the money.” Nori scoffed.

Ori frowned. “Nori I don’t know...”

“Ori. Freeman... Bilbo is a good man. If it wasn’t for him, I never would have found out-”

“But he’s not a good influence-!”

“I've never needed any influence to make the decisions I made.”

“But there’s _regional_ asshatery and _transcontinental_!”

“Not to mention transatlantic!” Nori wriggled his eyebrows comically.

“Nori!”

Bilbo came back down with his cat Smaug in his arms - a white persian with the incredible ability to call you stupid with a sniff - and winked at Ori. He heard everything. Ori turned red and petted Smaug, now on his lap; he was possibly the only one who could get away with talking ill about Mr. Baggins, not that he meant it! Feeling the vibrating under his hand, he thought... he was probably the only one other than Mr. Bilbo that Smaug didn’t treat with complete disdain.

Nori grinned at the sight. “Ori, Tamer of the Beast. You know, I’ve done some _Beast taming_ myself today.”

“Oh no.”

“Wild tomcat -”

“Nori, no!”

“Rides cock like a jockey -”

“Nori!”

“Let him come twice, and he still wasn’t satisfied!”

“No! Dammit, Nori!”

Bilbo grinned widely, entertained beyond reason.

“Wound him up real nice for you, little brother!”

“Mahal above, Nori, I have him today! Why?”

“Happy Birthday, love.”

\-------------###-------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about that. i just... i am wounded up...  
> special thanks to :  
> greenkangaroo for her awesome Dirtty Deeds (btdubs, i hav to comment on that, last chapter blew me.) and her wonderful. you Nori-afficionado, i can't refuse anything from you!  
> Ississ: it's not ABBA, but it's Ori with a whip.  
> enjoy and thanks.


	3. Boys in Heels (Crossdressing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam has killer legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me over a week to write. i started long before chapter 2 was finished. I found the need to write this when i found xdress.com and really, who better than Erestor?  
> this morning, i woke up to find, like, 20 messages in my inbox. i was so excited, i did my best to write this with quality and purpose and smut.  
> i hope you enjoyed this.  
> xdress.com i know i did ;)
> 
>  

Boys in skirts and heels

\-------------###-------------

He stepped out of the cab, straightened suit and tie. An umbrella above him, followed him into the building.

“Good morning, Sir. Did you have a good flight?”

“Good morning, Ethan. It was well. How is Mary?”

“Furious. Nursing a flu I gave her.”

“And she left your head on your shoulders?”

“She’s too busy passing in on to her sisters ‘by accident’. Please sign here and here, your keycard, the luggage will be brought up to your room shortly. The management will send up a complimentary fruit basket and some champagne with your breakfast, Sir.”

“Very kind.”

“Adam’s already upstairs. I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Noldorin.”

“Thank you, Ethan.”

In the room, he found his luggage by the bed already, breakfast on the table, fruit basket on display, tea freshly poured. He took a seat on the sofa, in front of the window when his eyes were covered from behind by something very soft.

“Adam.”

“Erestor.”

Erestor listened to the shifting of soft cloth on skin, lips touching the brim of a cuppa. He held the hands that held the cup to his lips and took a sip. And another, running his hands up to soft shoulders. And another sip, wandering down his sides and to his bum. Adam repossessed the cup and finished the rest of the tea.The blindfolded hummed with deep appreciation at the soft fabric he felt there, and licked his lips.

“Hmm. Lace, fishnets... are they the red ones?”

“Hmmmm... _maybe?”_

Erestor pulled the man in his lap closer, relishing the feeling of fishnets on soft thighs, tracing the dent where panties hugged buttcheek. He leaned his head back, and was rewarded with sweet, teasing bites and licks. Arms wrapped around his neck, and he grabbed Adam’s lips between his own, his tongue between his teeth. Adam let out a high noise, Erestor moved to grind their hips, cheeks flushing when he responded with the same noise.

The blindfold around his eyes were removed, revealing to his sight the visual delight of an aroused young man, long silky hair draping down like a waterfall, in red lace crotchless panties and tights. Big doe eyes blinked coyly, his fly was opened, cock met cock, Adam rubbed himself against a very receptive body until he stood up and, with slow deliberation (and a very crotchless piece of clothing) walked over to the food.

Erestor’s eyes wandered down exposed skin and high heels, too busy being left behind all hot and bothered to be bothered by his state of disarray. He wasn’t the only man in the world left with his cock in the air by a tease. Right now, though, with Adam slightly bent over and picking at the food on the table, the global non-exclusivity of his current predicament wasn’t any of his concern.

He walked up behind the boy in heels, embraced him. Trailed his hands down Adam’s torso, in the middle of his chest, to his belly button, tickling his pubic area.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Hm. You deserved it.”

Erestor snuck his fingers under the elastic of the red stockings. “Whatever for? I found you an original _Gebrüder Grimm’s Irische Elfenmärchen_... I thought you liked that...”

“I did. I love it. And the last time you were here, you replaced all my bacon with celery.”

“Which is _utterly unforgivable_ , is it?” Slow, deep grind. Slow, deep groan.

“It was _celery_ for _breakfast._ You’re lucky I let you into my tights at all.”

“And I apologised...”

Erestor’s arms tightened around Adam, hand taking full advantage of the ‘crotchless’ bit of his undies.

“I apologised _three times_ already..”

Adam undulated, head no longer being supported by the muscles in his neck, entirely dependant on his client’s shoulder for support. In a blur, he was lifted and placed on the vanity, heated back pressed to cold mirror. He wrapped his legs around a pair of sturdy hips, trying not to giggle at questing fingers at his side. The fair face leaned in, pouty lips kissing his own pursed ones.

“Should I _apologise_ one more time...?”

“Yes please.”

\-------------###-------------

Erestor always brought Adam a gift.

Adam never asked for any, his multiple attempts at refusing and/or returning them were futile. He resorted to throwing one of the objects at his head, but the taller man was incredibly agile and effortlessly dodged it. When he found a Morning Star wrapped in a bow at his doorstep, he was so flattered he didn’t bother refusing any more. Bilbo and him hanged baubles on the spikes for christmas every year since, it was their own special tradition.

This year, rather than be burdened with a medieval artifact he had no room for, Adam followed Erestor into the bowels of the Rivendell Museum of Historical Artifacts, awe clear in his body language. The professor signed off on his guest badge, and he wandered through the underground halls; ‘guest badge’ was an over-statement, he was given the same freedom of movement and access to artifacts as guest experts.

His slight stature and close companionship to a prominent professor earned him a reserved treatment from the staff (as well as some few choice words), but they soon warmed up when he proved himself to be a silent observer and a respectful venerator of old books.

Of course, it helped that he had killer legs, and the skirt and boots to frame them.

He was looking into the plexiglas box encasing an old medieval manuscript, carefully moving the magnifying glass with the silicon gloves attached to the side, his long hair tied into a knot. A soft hand on his shoulder caught his attention, but he ignored it. The other arm wrapped around his waist, fingers teasing the edge of his skirt. When the hand on his shoulder joined its sibling at his thighs, Adam’s knees weakened.

“Erestor! Stop it, I’m trying to read!” Adam hissed, trying to keep his voice down and steady.

“You’ve been reading for three hours.”

“So have you, and yet _my_ hands aren’t equipped with a homing device to _your_ crotch.”

Erestor turned the rotating stool, and adjusted the height so that he and Adam were face-to-face, and wedged himself between half-bare thighs.

“My my, professor, is there something you want to tell me?”

“Maybe one small thing...”

“Oh _do_ tell...”

“I authenticated the painting, our lunch date cancelled, and we have a few extra hours between _now_ and the event this evening...”

“Professor! Are you implying that you are free to give me some _extra credit?_ I thought you _weren’t that type of professor”?_

Adam slipped off the stool and straightened his skirt and hair into a semblance of propriety. Erestor took care of his blouse, tugging to reinstate the illusion of humble breasts. He also gave Adam’s arse one last squeeze before heading for the exit.

“I am _now.”_

\-------------###-------------

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Rivendell Museum of Historical Artifacts is proud to receive the recently recovered _La Joconda_. We owe great thanks to the man who recovered her, the Commissioner Elrond Sterndom, and his task force, who are sadly unavailable to attend this evening. and now, a few short words from the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, Dame Galadriel Lorienthal.”

A polite applause, a handshake, photo poses, smalltalk, press and socialites flock to the Commissioner and his close relations, among which belonged Erestor Noldorin. Thankfully, neither species of parasite would approach the intellectual, as he refused to speak of anything that wasn’t Germanic and Nordic Medieval literature, the ingredients of various inks between 500 C.E. and 1500 C.E., or the function of fruit portrayed in poetry in pre-babylonian civilisations.

Anxious hostages veritably _fled_ when they realised the beautiful lady at his arms - _Mademoiselle Corinne LeBrun, bonsoir._ \- had “extensive knowledge” regarding pre-mayan sacrificial rituals, and wasn’t changing the subject or indulging their thirst for gossip. Before either doubt or embarrassment could cross Adam’s mind, Erestor gave him a peck on his cheek, and use the proximity to hide a wide and amused smile.

Following Erestor around the gallery, Adam noticed eyes following him the entire evening. Shoulders bare, long blue velvet dress with a modest trail, skin peeking out from a mid-thigh slit, Adam offered them a small smile and a wink. When his eyes met those of a tall, familiar man - _Thorin_ \- he gathered his long black hair and draped it across one shoulder, baring the other and his neck, taking in the hungry eyes.

\-------------###-------------

“I noticed what you did.”

Fingers held him by the jaw, pulled his head back to lean on shoulders. The deep rumble roused him from the growing insanity of his mind, the regular movements underneath him, however, did not, and Adam struggled to keep his mind focused. He fisted the sheets between his fingers, trying not to slip with the movements behind him.

“I saw what you did -” He did a lot of things earlier that evening, please be more precise.

“- the thing with the leg -” Oh _that_... Well, really, the laws of physics didn’t just change for one evening on one dress because you wanted a slit but no exposure, _Erestor_ , and if Thrainson couldn’t handle a little bit of skin showing, well, that was his own fault.

“- the thing with your knee -” Fundinson the Younger politely inquired, Erestor agreed with a nod, and seriously, a tango without some knee in the groin? There are no rules against threatening someone to remove their hands from your arse with a knee to the jewels and making it seductive.

“- with your lips -” If the Commissioner’s twins could make demeaning backhanded comments about his friends and his profession - of which, it seemed, they knew nothing about - they could sit at the table, watch him eat and die of blue balls.

Erestor tugged at the painted lips, moist and swollen from biting.

“- your hands -” Pickpocketing will earn you a bowl of hot soup on your hands, thirty fourth to the throne and inebriated or not, _’Boromir’._

“- your shoulders -”

“You like my shoulders...”

Erestor pulled Adam’s hips back roughly, fingers digging into black suspenders and teeth biting into bruised bunched muscles, mouthing their way up to the closest ear.

“Mmm... Yes, I do...”

The taller man straightened up, using his height to spur the momentum behind his hips, nearly lifting the crouching man off his own knees and hands. Adam’s knees slipped, causing his spine to curve sharper and his arms to stiffen tighter; he had no friction to keep still, stockings of silk, toes unable to grip the cloth, trapped in black shoes that were attached by a simple strap around the ankle.

The sensation of staccato shivering and pulsating around his cock cause the active man to slow down to a halt. He pulled out and embraced Adam from behind, forcing him to suffer through the sudden lack of stimulation right before his climax. Adam gave a shout and a few desperate thrusts in the open air, shivering almost violently with abandonment.

The fucking might have stopped, but the sex didn’t.

Erestor then laid him down on the bed, yanked off _‘Corinne’s’_ wig and threw it on the floor. He took in the sight before him - legs akimbo, panties hanging off one ankle, six inch heels that were _not_ made for walking, the corset forcing a soft female figure out of his body and providing the illusion of modest breasts, make up still perfect but face muscles ruined and exhausted - and nearly spent himself.

Instead, he stretched arms and back, giving his conquest a few moments - _seconds_ \- of rest, reached out to caress every inch of flesh in reach, and dove in. Their pace was unforgiving, Adam scratched his sides and embraced his frantic hips. Erestor came with the feeling of lace tights and sharp heels on his back and buttocks.

\-------------###-------------

Adam took the opportunity to take of his shoes. He had excused himself from the crowd and found refuge in the women’s room, giving his face a good wash and his feet a good rest. He lifted himself on the counter, and looked closer at his face. Well, before leaving, he could touch up his lips as well.

The door opened, and he was followed by the fair daughter of the Commissioner. Anything that crossed his mind - a greeting, an introduction, an apology, a compliment? - was wiped away when he saw that she put the “out of order” on the door, and locked it. Head empty, Adam just tilted his head to the side.

“I am sorry to interrupt, _Mademoiselle,_ but I saw you slip away into the washroom with your shoes in your hands, and thought it was a very good idea. Would you mind if I joined?”

A little starstruck, Adam shook his head. She was so kind, and after her brothers’ display, he felt a little shy around her. She smiled reassuringly, as though she could read his mind.

“I am very sorry for those two. I assure you, not everyone in this family is as firm in their disbelief about certain professions as those two.”

Her eyes bore into his, Adam gave a quick nod. Her eyes crinkled, barely, and she walked towards him, her entire body language slow and deliberate. She was stood in front of him, removed her shoes; dropped them next to his and they were eye to eye, nearly, Adam higher by an inch from the counter.

“Next week is our anniversary, you see, and my husband is a little difficult to buy for. Luckily, we share _’interests’_ , and if you were available, we would be honoured if you _joined...”_

Hooded eyes watched delicate hands lift the hem of his dress, the slit revealing his legs one by one, stockings, suspenders, panties.

“Would you like a sample of my services?”

The same delicate hands coaxed his thighs apart and settled to his side, she slipped between them and rubbed their cheeks together. Adam trails his own gloved hands up hers, to shoulder and neck and jawline. They kissed, deep and slow and questing new territories, and his hands, like hers, descended to more secrete areas for their quest.

Fifteen minutes later, they both reemerged from the washroom arm in arm, dresses proper and hair flowing, bright cheeks and lush lips, each other’s business cards tucked... somewhere.

\-------------###-------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) is anyone jazzed up? ... hello?  
> also, i just realised that i need a family name for ori.  
> cookies for anyone who can 'guess' who the lady is, who fondled adam at the gala.
> 
> and while you're reading this and craving some RPF Adam in knickers, this might be your thing ♥ [Naughty Little Treat](../../../724616) by [downdelta](../../../../users/downdelta/pseuds/downdelta)


	4. Special Occasion (Pegging)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen and Aragorn celebrate their anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hre for your entertainment ;)  
> i really hope this turned out alright. all the drafts, all the rewriting, for what? less than 1000 words?  
> i have given up on up-staging the dwalinxori chapter. there is nothing ic an do to make a better one.  
> but i can try...
> 
>  
> 
> on tumblr;   
> http://pandeimos.tumblr.com/post/43973536382/double-lives-chapter-4-special-occasion

\-------------###-------------

Aragorn was having an excellent morning.

He was still tied to the bed, the window was open, letting in a breeze and rays of sunrise, arse throbbing and eyes feasting on his fellow bedmates.

Ears delighted in the moans he himself was unable to coax out the night before. In his own defense, he was quite incapacitated and very much distracted.

Arwen and Adam bucked, meeting each other in the middle, watching each other with delirious eyes, Aragorn licked his lips, bucked in time with their rhythm. Adam tightened his legs around her hips, and Aragorn slipped free from his cuffs to join in.

He slipped behind his wife, caressing her thighs, running fingers up her spine and down her arms. He closed his eyes and dedicated a few moments to three senses; touch, her soft skin under his hands, her undulations bumping her arse against his cock, her back to his chest, her shoulders to his lips, acres of smooth and hairless skin within his reach. His olfactory sense flared, sweat and sweetness intertwined, earthy musk and apple and cinnamon. His ears burned, teasing moans out of Arwen through her nipples, squeezing Adam’s knees when she fucked little breathy whimpers out of him.

He slid hands down sprawled thighs, joining Arwen and her thrusts. A twinge bloomed from his rectum, and his mind returned to the night before -

_He was on his back, wrists cuffed to the headboard, ankles to the bedposts, having the living daylights ruthlessly fucked out of him by a boy in a négligé. His head spinned, he tried to keep his eyes open, blinking every time they crossed to set them straight. When the thrusts slowed, his eyeballs rolled back to meet his brain, and he nearly missed his wife refreshing both of their lipsticks - a deep, cruel burgundy that would never leave his mind ever again - and shoved her tongue down the boy’s throat._

Aragorn grasped Adam’s erection, roughly rubbing and stroking the smooth skin around it -

_Hairless. Completely hairless and smooth and so contradictory to the strength behind the hips, the very masculine hips and waist and chest, négligé stretched in ways it wouldn’t have been had Aragorn not practically torn the corset from his body -_

Adam let out a sob, and another, and another, until his neck bent too far back to let out anything but choked gasps, and Arwen never relented. Her husband stuck to her back, she shoved the fake cock into the willing body beneath her, rotating and swirling and dragging out any and all shivers and groans in ways that she knew her husband wanted to himself.

The stiff cock poked and prodded her back for attention, crying of loneliness, and with one coy look and smile over her shoulder, she leaned forward, dragging her hands on shivering flesh. Her husband followed her, hands on hands rucking up a ruined négligé, followed her hands on hairless crotch and hard nipples, following her harness-encased hips with his own.

Aragorn entered his wife, moist and twitching and nearing completion - _**how** long were they at it?_ \- and took charge of the motions. Aragorn finally - _finally_ \- fucks Adam, through Arwen, and _finally_ drags out the high desperate whines from the depths of his throat, his empty hole twitching nostalgically -

_Arwen and Adam tug collectively at Aragorn’s trapped cock, kissing and licking and slurping between his spread legs. The restrained man did his best to keep his moans and screams silent, but ultimately failing when fingers, some dainty and some thicker, some soft and some coarse, joined tongues and plucked at his anus open and ready -_

Arwen cums, long and hard; in one fluid motion she separated from the other two, intent on sparing her over-sensitive flesh. She lay, shivering, sharp and demanding eyes meeting her husband’s desperate ones.

In a flash, Adam was on his side facing her, Aragorn behind him with one thigh between his own. He shook in time with Aragorn’s frantic thrusts, unable to move otherwise and far too shaken to even grasp at the sheets properly. Arwen leant over to kiss him, lipstick still red and sticky from the night before, chin and cheeks still blotched and stained.

Aragorn had slowed down to a torturous pace. Arwen licked her lips, kissing a shoulder in a loose strap. They gathered Adam’s hairless pubis in their collective hands, reviving him for another round of play.

\-------------###-------------

Three figures lay half-comatose on a messy bed. They’ve long stopped shaking, satisfied and enjoying each other’s body warmth.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

“Thanks love. Happy anniversary.”

They shared a kiss between them, and settled in for a power nap.

\-------------###-------------

In the dead of night, a figure limped quietly up the stairs on his tiptoes, shoes in hand. He was nearly at the door, just a few feet away from a sweet and blessed few hours of sleep, if he could just -

Click. The lights turned on.

“Ori.”

“Nori”.

They nodded at each other.

“Could you explain why you’re holding my stilettos in your hands?”

“Yes!”

The owner of the shoes crossed his arms and leant against the door. The thief stood his ground, looking square into his eyes.

“Well?”

“You asked if I could, and I can. You didn’t ask if I _would.”_

“... and you won’t, is that right?”

Nori just cocked his head and held the shoes to his chest.

“You don’t mentioned the shoes, this time and date, and I won’t tell Dori what you did with Bofur’s stash, or your two-day threesome with his favourite celebrity couple.”

Silence stretched.

“Deal.”

Each brother slowly backed into their corner; Ori closed his bedroom door with suspicion, a suspicious bag behind his back, and Nori took the guestroom, shielding his own secret with his entire body.

\-------------###-------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anytime anyone wants to see a pairing, gimme a shout. i am lost after this. technically, this is all i had in my brain. sort of.  
> any ideas?


	5. Date my Avatar (cosplay, threesome)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori let out a scream, dropped his coffee and punched the intruder in the nose.  
> Cosplay, gamers, made up game. in my made up game, all the characters are female and have some kick ass body armour that only have weird boobage if you want. it's a back ass mixture of MMORPG and FPS. like i said, backasswards.
> 
> ori is a fauness, legolas is a dwarf, gimli is a elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gimli and Legolas know Ori's a hooker, and they don't care.

on [tumblr](http://pandeimos.tumblr.com/post/46279323689/double-lives-chapter-5-date-my-avatar-gimli-ori-legolas)

if you want something good, go [here ](../1234445)or [here](http://pandeimos.tumblr.com/post/42507827345/double-lives-chapter-2-my-pain-your-thrill): Dwalin/Ori, BDSM, whipping and loving involved.

\-------------###-------------

Legolas was having one of his ‘moments’. His face was impassive, back straight, hair seamless and untangled. His shoulders, though, had a slight droop, and this was his fourth Matcha Smoothie, and his phone lay dismantled on the table.

So yes. ‘Moments’.

“If you want to drink your troubles away, lad, there’s a pub around the corner with excellent beer. The Pickled Hedgehog also has those weird green things you like.”

“My friend, I appreciate your kind gestures, but this is not a problem that can be fixed with celery and alcohol.”

“Is your father still giving you problems?” Ori had no parents in the traditional sense; he had parental figures, Nori and Dori. Thranduil, his affection for his son though genuine was rather... stifling. Like Nori when he forgot where he put his keys. _I’m a **P** rofessional, and **P** rofessionals **never forget anything!**_

“Why that arrogant-! I ought to bring him to the ring one of these days, see how long he’ll take a beating!”

“Father is a black belt in Judo.”

“A feckin’ wimp! I’ll show him-”

An eerie light lit in Legolas’ eyes. unsettling Ori.

“We should date.”

“Nay that is a horrible idea. We’ll kill each other. Yer dad’ll go batshit insane and throw the hissy fit of the century a _nd let’s do it!”_

Ori smacked his hand to his head. _This_ was all it took?! Months of trying to get the two of them coupled, wasted efforts. This could only get worse if they decide to become _more convincing _and decide to make love in Thranduil’s home, both being virgins of another man’s flesh, and asked him for his assistance.__

It got worse.

\-------------###-------------

Ori clamoured at the person in front of him, unsure of what to do with his arms. Every time his neck lost strength and his head bobbed a hand pulled back his collar to lift it again, keeping the decor on his head safe from impact. With every thrust forward, Ori was lifted off the tip of his toes, and every thrust out allowed him to scratch the barest hint of solid ground.

Why, oh why did he ever think this was a _good idea?_

Behind him, brute strength appeared in short, controlled spurts, leaving him compliant to movements not his own. Before him loomed grace and authority, giving tender affection for every command obeyed.

Ori whimpered high in his throat when hands roamed his back, pulling at the threaded jewelry encasing his body, attached to the ram’s horns on the sides of his head, to the translucent veil hiding his face.

The brickhouse of a man behind him shoved forward hard, shaking his body so and making Ori cross his eyes, it was a wonder his decor hadn’t loosened. The other man rubbed himself to his front, bending down to kiss him along his covered face. Dammit. If he weren’t tethered by his bling, he would reach out and smack the smugness out of Legolas’ face. Gimli let out a laugh that shook Ori to the core, the deep rumble reverberating side by side his cock and adding stimulation, made worse by Legolas’ hands on his sides.

Ori crumbled, mind numb with stimulation. He tried to move away from the insistent member within him but was held in place by two towering figures, once again forcing his twitching body to finish around an unrelenting prick. It was tortuous, the exact opposite of what he needed right now. He needed relief he needed them to _stop, stop moving it’s too much, too much -_

When he next woke, Ori was lain on Legolas’ chest. Gimli hugging him from behind. He could hear them talk, while he was in his own world, the sounds were muffled but not unclear.

“Two all. We’re tied.”

\-------------###-------------

“Thirty one... Thirty two...”

“Thirty nine... Forty...”

“Fuck it, I’m casting Whither Snow!”

“Dammit, you berk, you almost got me!”

Legolas and Gimli were dead to the world when Ori finally decided to show up.

“Eighty three... eighty four...”

“Hey! I have to tell-”

“What?! That still counts as one!”

"I assure you, it does not!"

"Shut up posh boy!"

Or rather, _Bloomerang_ and _Gingerbeard_ were committing virtual genocide on a pack of unsuspecting orcs in the Fallen Woods, the mystical forest of the dead between the EverWorld and the NetherSeas, when Knitknot tumbled in a jumbled mess of knitwear.

“Knot! There you are! Login, I need heals, you have to heal me!”

“Incoming!”

“Shut up! I-”

“What are you standing there for? Login and - _shit_ what happened?!”

Gimli and Legolas were violently pulled into the out-game world, Metal Smithe Elf and Healer Dwarf, respectively, now ex-middleweight boxing champ and reluctant socialite-father-induced-hipster pressing hotkeys with despair.

“What? Oh this? It’s nothing-” Ori’s face was smudged in red liquid, arms full of a yellow-eyed red demon with sharps teeth, knuckled bruised and bleeding.

“The state of you! Your hands! Have you been assaulted?”

“I’m fine, Fili and Kili just have hard skulls. Look-”

“You _punched_ the wonder twins? Why?”

“They wanted to soak Smaug in bleach after having dyed him in red food colouring. That’s not important-”

_”That’s Smaug?!”_

Ori let out a whistle, calling their attention.

“I hold in my hand your router. It will been disconnected. If you want your wifi, you will meet my demands and shut up! This is important!”

Cowed by the threat of violence on their Beloved, they slowly lowered their laptops.

“We have tickets to the GameCon.”

GameCon was sold out months ago. Ori was swept up and swung around by Legolas, joy uncharacteristically visible. A quick kick to the shins had him back on solid ground, but alas, not out of the prison of arms.

“How?”

 _“Thorin Thrainson._ And the best part? _He’s Lieutenant Commander Richmal Armitage.”_

Lt Cmdr R Armitage, legendary player in the EverWorld. Made famous by taking down the infamous rogue Azog Tepesh in the First World.

 _”The Oakenshield...”_ The title was reverently whispered.

Then a very fanboy shriek was let out.

A few weeks later, the three wandered in the biggest Con in cosplay. Day One, Legolas was mocked for being a six foot four Dwarf. Gimli, in a brass bikini, defended his honour. Day two, they spent the day playing the expansion pack preview, exclusive to VIP ticket holders. Ori’s ram’s horns nearly slipped off as he ducked his head at the attentions of Lt Cmdr Armitage and her 2IC Lt Grace McTavish.

Though Ori was grateful that neither recognised _Adam_ under the Harem Faun costume, the whole thing left him tingly and out of sorts. and if he were thinking straight, he would have refused Gimli’s and Legolas’ offers.

\-------------###-------------

How they met was an interesting set of circumstances.

They were friends before they became a 'guild', tiny as they were.

Gimli knew Ori from the library, and so did Legolas, in a manner of speaking.

Ori was lost in his own world, taking a small break from books and throwing coins into the vending machine, when a voice, out of nowhere, said "Excuse me, sir. Are you not working today?"

Startled, Ori let out a scream, dropped his coffee and punched the intruder in the nose.

\-------------###-------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give up. ok? I just give up. I tried, and i tried, and i wrote and rewrote this so many times, but i can't.
> 
> if you have a pairing you'd like to see, and/or a kink, i'll see what i can do. as proven by this chapter, it might not end like what you expected, but i'll try.
> 
> also, i think this is a good list of _Stammkunden_ to have; thorin, dwalin, erestor. what do you think?


End file.
